The Adventures of the Billionaire and the Scientist
by WibbleyWobbleyTimeyWhimey
Summary: "Only fools meddle with things they do not understand..." Unfortunately, Tony and Bruce have never been good at leaving things alone. NOTE: on temporary hiatus. Will continue later.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here's a fic about Tony and Bruce that I promised in my last story. It won't be slash, just lots of friendship. I may add a dash of Pepperony, though. Please R&R :)

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers.

...

"All I'm saying, Bruce, is that Fury needs to install pizza ovens in our lab at SHIELD." Tony took a huge bite of a slice of Hawaiian pizza as he walked towards his lab in Stark Towers.

"I don't think that's sanitary, Tony. I'm almost positive that's violating some health code regulations," Bruce said as he opened the lab door.

"Pssh, technicalities," Tony replied, finishing his pizza and washing his hands. "I tend to crave delicious cheesy goodness while I work."

"Fury needs us to take apart this weapon," Bruce said, pointing at a light blue saber-type sword. "Clint picked it up on one of his missions. Apparently a strange old man in Beijing sold it to him, saying it could render any victim insane. It may be nothing, but it's worth taking a look at."

Tony clapped his hands together, grinning. "Sounds like fun. Let's do this."

The men got to work.

"JARVIS, what can you tell me about this... thing?" Tony asked his AI, pulling up a picture of the saber and zooming in. Its hilt was ornately carved, inscribed with some language Tony didn't recognize. The blade faintly glowed blue, and Tony could make out a few more words underneath the eerie fluorescence.

"That's Latin, on the hilt, sir," JARVIS replied. "It says 'Omnia sunt mortalis,' meaning 'All are mortal.' The inscription on the blade says, simply, 'Mors.' 'Death.'"

"Well, isn't that promising..." muttered Bruce, spinning the expanded image with his hands.

"Well, we can deduce that this sword was made by some psycho evil dudes," Tony said, "who probably lived in or around Ancient Rome. Thanks, JARVIS."

The men tried every test known to science. They exposed the sword to every element they could think of, but it was not affected in the slightest. Finally, Tony looked up from the irritating blue glow and rubbed his eyes.

"It's midnight, Bruce. We should continue this in the morning."

"Hold up..." Bruce muttered. "Do you have anything in here that we could cut?"

"I see where you're going, Brucie. There's a watermelon in the mini fridge over there."

"Any reason why...?" Bruce asked as he produced the fruit.

"I told you. I get hungry while I work. Dummy, pick up the sword and cut that melon, would you?"

The robot did as he was told. As the sword came down upon the fruit, there was a blinding flash of blue light.

Tony found himself slumped in the corner of his lab. He had apparently been blown backwards from the force of whatever the heck had just happened.

"Bruce, you OK?" he asked, wincing as he stood up. He'd probably hit his head on the lab counter.

"Yeah... What in the world?" Bruce's voice traveled from another corner of the room.

"It looks like things are about to get a lot more interesting," Tony said, staring down at the place where the watermelon used to be. All that was left was a pile of pale blue ash.

...

A tall, thin man leaned over the old Chinese man. His piercing green eyes held no light, and his lips were curled in a permanent sneer.

"To whom did you sell Gladius Maximus?" hissed the tall blond man.

The older man's eyes twinkled as he replied, "Don't you wish you knew?"

In the next moment, the old man was on the ground, reeling from the younger man's slap. "Foolish men meddle with things they do not understand..." he muttered, wiping his mouth.

"Only fools meddle with me," the green-eyed man replied. "Now, would you like to tell me who bought the sword?"

"No," the old man replied, chuckling, "for I myself do not know who the man was."

"I'll give you ten seconds to figure it out," said the younger man. "Starting now."

...

**A/N: So...what do you think? Please review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, I say we take this to Fury first thing tomorrow," Bruce said, sweeping the ash carefully into a plastic bag.

"JARVIS, what's my schedule look like?" Tony asked he AI, winking at Bruce. There was no reply. "JARVIS?" Tony asked, senses kicking into high gear. "JARVIS, are you there? Answer me. I mean, if you're not busy. I'd hate to bother you..." Either JARVIS had a hot date with Siri, or someone had hacked through his security.

...

The blonde-haired man had searched for months after disposing of the idiot in Beijing. He had looked everywhere for that man with the bow and arrow, finally tracing the famous Hawkeye to NYC. Once there, he had traced his sword to the famous Tony Stark.

What luck, thought the man. A billionaire who has no idea what he is dealing with. This turn of events could become very profitable for the blonde-haired man, who called himself Westin.

Hacking through Stark's systems was not quite as easy as anticipated. That man had brains, but he could never quite match Westin's brilliance.

The lab was relatively easy to find, and Westin was able to listen to the scientists through the crack in the doorway.

What fools. They have absolutely no idea what that sword is capable of, Westin thought as he listened to the men attempting to slice the watermelon.

When he heard Tony say something to his AI without getting a response, Westin knew it was time for action.

He had read about the Hulk, and he didn't want any trouble. He would have to take them both, though, because they had both seen Gladius Maximus in action.

The darts were loaded with a special poison found deep in the Amazon. Weston raised the wooden tube to his lips and blew.

...

"JARV-eurghh-" said Bruce, reaching up to feel his neck. Uh-oh. He felt the tremors signaling the Other Guy coursing through his body.

"Bruce, are you- ouch!" Tony collapsed in a heap, a feathered dart sticking from his neck.

Bruce grabbed the lab counter with green-tinted hands, reaching for his phone. The Hulk was obviously preventing the dart from working properly, while e dart was preventing the Hulk from working properly. Bruce's fingers closed around the phone, just as another dart hit him in the neck. Everything faded to black.

...

**A/N: This story is really hard for me to write. I don't know why. It's also starting out a lot more slowly than anticipated, so please bear with me :). There will be a lot more action, humor, and bromance to come.**

**Please, please, please review? :D**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Westin.

...

Bruce's throat was dry, and his tongue felt swollen. He attempted to lick his lips, head pounding. He cracked one eye open, squinting against the bright glow of a fluorescent lightbulb.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty has arisen! How are you this fine morning, princess?" Tony's voice echoed throughout the room. Bruce opened his eyes and looked around the room.

He was seated in a corner, chained to the wall by his foot. The room was tiny, barely enough room for Tony and himself. The former was slumped in the opposite corner, legs stretched out before him, looking incredibly bored.

"It took you hours to wake up!" Tony whined. "I've been sitting here about to lose my mind! Can you believe they don't have one form of entertainment in this pit? Not even a Rubix Cube! What am I supposed to do in here? It's filthy and not one soul has been in to bring food or water or anything. I mean-"

"Tony, I'll be sure to write a strongly worded letter to the manager. In the meantime, have you made any headway with, I don't know, _escaping_? What about your chains?"

"What, you mean these?" Tony held up his unlocked shackles.

"And you didn't feel like unlocking mine?" Bruce asked through gritted teeth. Sometimes this man gave him a large headache.

"I didn't feel like it."

"Thanks, buddy."

All of a sudden, a door flew open. Tony hastily put his chains back around his foot and assumed a face of mild curiosity. A tall, green-eyed man strode through the door, succeeding in making the quarters even more cramped.

"Couldn't you knock?" Tony said loudly, glaring at his captor. The blonde man looked a bit taken aback, then a small smile crossed his face.

"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Stark," said the man with a hint of an accent. "How may I make you more comfortable?"

"Maybe by letting me out?" Tony suggested.

"I am afraid I cannot do that," said the man, courteously extending his hand. "You may call me Westin."

"Is that your real name or an alias?" Bruce spoke up as Tony shook the blonde man's hand.

"You're a smart man, Dr. Banner," Westin said, not taking his eyes off of Tony. "I believe you can decide that for yourself."

"Alias then. May I ask why we're here?"

Westin finally tore his eyes from Tony and turned to face Bruce. "I have a few questions regarding Gladius Maximus, my sword, that I believe you two may be able to help me with. Don't think about trying to escape; I have injected you with a compound that prevents your little friend from acting up...or should I say your rather large friend? Then there is the fact that I have you outnumbered twenty-five to one."

"Excellent," Tony said, clapping his hands together. "What's your first question?"

Westin turned to Tony, a manic gleam appearing in his green eyes. "My first question, Mr. Stark, is this: how long will it take for the famous Anthony Stark's brilliant mind to break?"

...

**A/N: please review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: WARNING: There is some major emotional whump for Tony in this chapter. It's going to be darker than anything I've written. 

Please review, because I'm used to writing things more humorous and lighthearted and I'd like to know how I did.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

...

Bruce knew that Westin had been telling the truth about the Hulk, because his heart was hammering rapidly and his blood was boiling. But the Other Guy was not stirring.

Tony's eyes widened for half a second, then he resumed his bored expression. "And how exactly do you plan to go about doing that?"

Westin smiled. "I was hoping you would ask that." He snapped his fingers, and a small dark-haired man brought in a long, thin parcel.

Westin's thin white hands gingerly unwrapped the package, revealing the glowing blue sword inside. Westin's eyes held a look of hunger that sent chills down Bruce's spine.

"Tell me, Mr. Stark, how many traumatizing memories do you have?" Westin said, caressing the sword's hilt.

"Quite a few," Tony said back. "There was that time in that casino... And that girl... That was embarrassing. Oh, and when Pepper caught me experimenting with hair gel... And when Fury gave me a ton of paperwork over Christmas..."

"Well, I think you're going to have to dig a little deeper," Westin said, and without another word, he drove the sword's blade into Tony's shoulder.

Bruce threw himself against his chains, but the dark-haired man who had delivered the sword caught him by his arms. Where was the Hulk when he actually wanted him?

Tony's face was drained of all color, his breathing shallow and eyes wide. There was no blood, even though the sword had gone straight through his shoulder. Suddenly, Tony cried out, sending another chill down Bruce's spine.

...

Tony was three.

"Daddy, look what I made!" he said, holding up the glue-and-Popsicle stick robot he had made.

"What's its function?" Howard Stark asked, not looking up from his paper.

"It's gonna help me clean my room!"

"That's highly unlikely. Does it move, Tony? Can it clean, Tony? Go build another one. Preferably one that's of some use."

Tony was twelve.

"Dad, I won the science fair!"

"Really? Let me see your project."

Tony presented his robot, which could lift heavy weights and obey simple voice commands.

"Tony, let me ask you something. How is this going to help anyone? I could lift these weights myself without difficulty."

"I was going to improve it, but..." Tony whispered.

"But what, son? You're not trying. You know you could have done better."

"But I won, Dad!"

"What's winning got to do with it? You're smarter than those kids, so you have an advantage. But if you're not pushing yourself, you're just as dim as they are. I want you to return the ribbon and tell your teacher that you weren't trying so you don't deserve it."

"But Dad..."

"End of discussion. Take that... dummy of a robot and make him into a proper one."

Tony picked up his robot, biting back the lump in his throat. He was a Stark, and Starks didn't cry.

Tony was at his parents' funeral. Starks didn't cry, Starks didn't cry, Starks didn't cry.

Pepper, walking away from him, a disappointed look on her beautiful face. She didn't even like him. How could she ever love him?

Tony was in the Humvee in Afghanistan. Those young people, who had bright futures ahead of them, killed right before his eyes. Seeing his company's logo on the missile before his chest exploded in pain.

"It's your fault, Tony..." came a voice from nowhere as he watched the young man being shot over and over again. "It's your fault he's dead."

"No..." Tony moaned. "I couldn't do anything about it... Wasn't my fault." Oh God, but it was...

A car battery attached to his chest, pain shooting through every inch of his body. Yinsen...

Being dunked repeatedly into buckets of ice cold water, every millimeter of air being forced from his lungs. I won't build it, I won't build it, I won't...

Yinsen, lying dead. Don't waste your life...

Obadiah, betraying him. Trying to kill him. The man who had been more of a father to Tony than Howard had been, stabbing him in the back.

The destruction he had cause with his weapons, playing over and over again in his mind... The dead soldiers, dead families, dead Yinsen, dead, dead, dead... And it was all his fault...

And then Tony was back on his cell floor, breathing heavily.

"Well, Mr. Stark, this is all rather fascinating," came a voice from above him. "I think we shall continue your story tomorrow." The sound of a slamming door resounded, and Tony closed his eyes, trying and failing to block out the wave of memories closing in on him.

...

"It's your fault Tony," said Westin to the glassy-eyed man at his feet. "It's your fault he's dead."

"No..." Tony moaned, not sounding at all like himself.

"What are you doing to him?" Bruce growled furiously. This time he felt a stir inside of him. The Other Guy was waking up.

"Timothy, I think you'd better give Dr. Banner another dose," said Westin, not removing his eyes from Tony. The dark-haired man stuck a needle in Bruce's arm, and he immediately felt the Hulk quiet down.

Bruce looked at Westin, who had withdrawn his sword. Tony was on the floor, panting and cradling his head in his arms.

Westin said something about tomorrow, Timothy let go of Bruce, and the scientist flew towards his friend.

"Tony! Tony! For God's sake, Tony, answer me!" Bruce checked Tony's vitals. The heart rate was faster than usual, but all other signs were normal.

Tony's eyes were clenched shut, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.

Bruce ripped open Tony's shirt to examine his wound. It was probably bad. The sword had to have torn through flesh, muscle, and ligaments, and Tony's face was pale and sickly.

It took a minute for Bruce to register what he was seeing.

Tony's shoulder held not even a single scratch.

...

**A/N: As I mentioned before, I've never written anything this heavy, and I would really love to know how I pulled it off. Please review :)**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry this took me so long... I was having trouble putting everything in my head onto paper. :/ 

Disclaimer: I (still) do not own the Avengers. 

...

"Tony?" Bruce rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking around the dark cell. He hadn't meant to fall asleep... Tony had been out cold for two days, and Bruce needed to be alert in case anything happened.

"Bruce?" cam a moan from the limp form in the corner.

"Tony!" Brice cried, instantly awake, scrambling to check his friend's vitals.

"Get your slimy green mitts off of me..." Tony growled, causing Bruce to break out in a huge grin. Tony obviously wasn't insane... Or, at least, any more insane than he had been.

Bruce sat back on his heels as Tony slowly, groggily pushed himself into a sitting position. He was a little shocked to see the haunted, sorrowful look in his best friend's eyes.

"What's up, Tony?" the scientist said quietly, and Tony turned his sallow face towards Bruce.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old. Getting kidnapped, chained to a wall, stabbed with a creepy blue sword... The usual." Bruce was almost fooled, but Tony's voice had cracked halfway through his sentence, and he wouldn't look Bruce in the eyes.

"Tony, you've got to tell me what's wrong, or else I can't help you."

"I don't need your help," Stark snapped, then an apologetic look crossed his features. "Sorry, it's just been a crummy day..."

"You can say that again," said Bruce understandingly.

"It's been kind of a crummy day," Tony repeated, a hint of his old self shining through.

Bruce chuckled. "Tony, you've been out for at least two days." Tony opened his mouth to respond, a puzzled look on his face, just before the door burst open.

"Ah, Mr. Stark," said Westin loudly, causing both Tony and Bruce to flinch. "How nice to see you awake again..."

"Yep. I'm alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic!" Tony replied tiredly. Westin's smile flickered.

"Tell me..." said Westin, a cold gleam in his eye. "How were the memories I resurfaced for you?"

"They were memories," said Tony. "Things of the past. I figure, you've just got to move on, or you'll be stuck in a vicious cycle of regret and revenge. Sure, memories hurt, but so does a scratch. I don't plan on my nasty scratches holding me back. In answer to the question you asked, Mr. Westin, those memories sucked. I hated every minute of reliving them. In answer to the question I believe you meant to ask, _sir_, is that those memories aren't going to affect my brain, my body, or my spirit. You probably think I'm just rambling now, and I am, but I want you to know that you will never, ever break me, even if you resurface every horrible, scarring thing that's ever happened to me."

Bruce sat back, a little stunned. Even Westin looked shocked. The look of shock soon turned to a look of pure hatred.

"How did you resist Gladius Maximus?" Westin hissed, taking a step closer to Tony.

"Oh, I didn't resist it. I just had enough willpower to bring myself back to reality afterwards."

Westin drew his fist back, like he was about to sock Tony, then slowly lowered it. He turned around to face the door, but didn't leave.

"In 1991, my little girl Annabella died. She was hit by a car. It was an accident. That same year, my wife died from grief. I threw myself into my work, trying to forget it all.

"Then Dr. Harvey Dorian came into the picture. He promised me fame, fortune, everything, if I would help him on a special program he was working on. He told me it was revolutionary. It would change the world. This technology would bring back the deceased.

"We set to work on Gladius Maximus. It was a difficult project, but together we managed to complete the sword around 1997. The idea was to take the memory of a loved one and turn him or her into a reality.

"I volunteered to go first, confidant that I would see my little Bella again. Dr. Dorian stuck the sword straight through my right shoulder, an area we had agreed wouldn't kill me if something went wrong. Instead of Annabella returning, I watched her repeatedly die in front of my eyes. When I cried out her name, Harvey pulled out the sword, eager to hear what the effects had been.

"In a fit of rage, I killed the man who had become my best friend over the past five years. Horrified, his assistant, Jonathan, tried to stop me by stabbing me once more with the sword. This time, I saw my wife on her deathbed, followed by the light fading from Harvey's eyes. Mr. Stark, I could not handle those memories. I broke. They were all too real, as if I was feeling my heart being torn to pieces over and over again. No mortal man could stand the feeling of a heart shattering. How did you do it?"

"I've been told I don't have a heart," Tony replied quietly, tapping the glowing blue circle in his chest.

Westin turned to stare at the arc reactor, a curious look on his face. "We'll see..." And the man left the room in silence.

...

**A/N:Please, please, please review? :)**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: OK, I know I'm usually faster with updates than I have been lately. Sorry that this took so long, I've just been really REALLY busy.

Anyway, I own nothing.

Please review :)

...

The next few days passed uneventfully. Bruce kept a close eye on Tony, who spent most of his time either heckling Bruce or sleeping. A man came in a few times during the course of the days to give Bruce his dose of what Tony called "Anti-Rage Monster Meds."

The worst day had yet to come.

Tony was sitting with his back against the wall, engaging in his favorite pastime: being Tony.

"You know what, Bruce? You're like a fried pickle."

"What?" Bruce snorted, looking at Tony with mild concern.

"You have a crispy outer layer, but on the inside you're big and green and tough."

"Um... I think I'm just going to ignore that..."

"Hello, Mr. Stark. Hello, doctor." The door swung open, revealing Westin.

Bruce looked over at Tony, who had assumed his best poker face. "Hey, Westie," he said, and Bruce detected a small tremor in his voice.

"Let's skip the formalities," said Westin, flashing a chilling smile. "I need you to remain calm, Anthony."

Before either Tony or Bruce could stop him, he had stuck a needle in Tony's arm.

The billionaire's eyes immediately began to droop. "Whas 'at?" he slurred, eyeing the syringe suspiciously.

"Just a little sedative," said Westin. Tony's world faded to black.

...

Tony woke up with a pounding headache. "Ugh. Bruce, what happened?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

"Dr. Banner is gone," said another voice, and Tony's eyes snapped open. Westin stood smiling above him.

"What did you do to him?" Tony growled.

"Oh, nothing. He left of his own free will. I offered him a choice: either you or him. He chose himself. It's funny how you think you know somebody, isn't it?"

"Bruce wouldn't leave me here," Tony said furiously. "He'll be back for me. And he'll bring my team. Let me tell you, once they come, all hell will break loose."

"Your team?" said Westin. "Did you know that Fury hasn't even lifted a finger to send help to you and the doctor? Neither have any of your 'teammates'."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I don't care whether you believe me or not. But I speak the truth." Westin turned to go. "Oh," he said, turning back around. "You'll be here for a while. I thought you might want to keep up to date with what's going on in the world outside of here. Not that you'll ever see it again." Westin picked a rolled newspaper from out of his coat pocket and tossed it at Tony's feet.

Tony didn't hear Westin leave. He didn't see the small smile playing around Westin's lips. All he could see was the bold, glaring headline of the newspaper staring up at him: **CEO of Stark Industries, Ms. Virginia Potts, Found Dead Yesterday.**

...

Starks didn't cry. But tears were running down Tony's cheeks as he read the article on Pepper.

Her body had been found, shot to death, near a New York subway station. She had been walking home from work late. Her purse was nowhere to be found, and neither was her killer.

Tony felt numb. Why hadn't his team protected her? Surely, if they cared about him at all, they would have made sure that the one person he had ever loved was safe.

Maybe they didn't care about him.

No. He couldn't think like that. These were the men (and woman) that he trusted with his life. With his life and Pepper's life.

But Pepper was dead. If the Avengers had protected her, she wouldn't be.

Tony knew what Westin had felt like, when his wife and daughter died. He felt his heart shatter.

It was by far the worst pain he had ever experienced.

...

**A/N: Please review :) Reviews bring me great joy.**


	7. Chapter 7

READERS, PLEASE READ THIS AND LET ME KNOW

A/N: OK, I've got a really important question for you guys. And a confession.

Confession: I don't know where I'm going with this story. I started off with a good, strong idea, but now I don't know where I'm going. This is the most difficult fanfic I've written so far, and it feels forced to me. I don't want to leave it like it is, but I don't want it to start sounding forced.

Question: I've been thinking about doing a Sherlock or Sherlock Holmes fic for a while. Also, I want to do a series of one-shots about Tony and Pepper.

Option #1: I can stop writing this fic for a while. When I have a good, clear idea in my head, I can come back to it and finish it. In the meantime, I'll write a few more humorous, lighthearted stories, which I tend to be better at.

Option #2: I can keep writing this fic until I'm done with it. You guys are going to Have to give me some help, though. Chapters won't be posted very quickly, but I'll be open to suggestions and constructive criticism.

I don't think this fic is going where I want it to. I either need to take a break or struggle through it.

Please, please let me know what you guys think.

-Wibbley


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